


I've Just Got One

by jessiemei



Series: I've Just Got One [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotp, Kidlock, M/M, Multi, Other, Teenlock, University Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiemei/pseuds/jessiemei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Prequel to the Sherlock Series. Follows Sherlock and John as they meet as children and grow up together as adults. My shot at kid!lock, teen!lock, college!lock and everything in between. BrOTP with mild Johnlock, really shows the strength of their relationship as they experience bullying, puberty, girls, college, and first cases. Don't want to give away the ending but it should tie in nicely with the way A Study In Pink begins. Please review!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Primary

“Sherlock darling, please don’t forget your scarf. It’s cold out.”

“But Mummy, I don’t want to go to another school!” Sherlock cried, standing at the door with his navy blue uniform on. “Why can’t I just go back to St. Joe’s? James is there!”

“I know Sherlock dear, but they haven’t let you come back because of all the damage you’ve done to the school,” his mother said, putting on her boot, “you know that, now come. Your brother is going to be late.”

Sherlock _really_ didn’t want to go to his new school. He had such a hard time making friends at St. Joseph’s Primary School that he was happy to have found one: James. He and James would play together in the yard and play ‘Scientist’, doing experiments together at all times. Outside, in the yard, in the classroom, in the loo. Sherlock didn’t want to make new friends at Fox Primary School; he knew he wasn’t going to. What kind of name was Fox, anyway?

Thinking about all of this just made him angrier and he started to cry. Coming down the hallway, his older brother heard him starting to sniffle and he ruffled his little brother’s curly brown hair as he put his coat on. “Don’t fret little brother,” his said to him, “there will be plenty more toilets for you to stuff earthworms into at Fox.”

“Mycroft please. You’re not making anything better.” Their mother sighed.

Sherlock cried aloud and went up to his brother, punching his arm with as much force as his five-year old body could muster. His arms barely reached his brother’s shoulder, so he pounded against Mycroft’s elbow as many times as he could before Mycroft palmed him at the forehead and held him at arm’s length. Sherlock knew this trick by now though, and he ducked out of his brother’s grasp and headbutted him in the stomach.

Mycroft grunted a little, but didn’t protest further.

“That probably didn’t even hurt you because you’re so fat,” Sherlock shot, “Fat Mycroft.”

“Ok boys, that’s enough! In the car, both of you.”

They went off to drop Mycroft off first. He and Sherlock didn’t attend the same school. Mycroft was starting his first year Queen Elizabeth’s, one of the top schools for academics and he had received a scholarship. At least, that’s what Sherlock had picked up from Mycroft babbling about it all summer. The drive was a long one because the school was located outside of central London, but despite it being far from their home, Mycroft _always_ got his way.

When they finally arrived, Mycroft bid his mother goodbye and then he turned to Sherlock and said, “Please do behave yourself, you are a Holmes.”

Sherlock just looked away as his brother shut the door behind him.


	2. First Day

 

Sherlock leaned his chin against his small palm at the window as the car slowed to a stop in front of Fox. He felt his mother fixing his collar for him before she patted down his curls atop his head.

“Go on dear, it will be fine. You’ll make lots of friends.”

Sherlock just sighed and grabbed his pack. As he opened the car door, his mother said “Don’t worry, I’ll take you to buy more crickets later if you like.”

Sherlock gasped with delight and let his mother kiss him on the forehead.

“Just promise me you won’t pull anybody’s hair out for samples, ok?”

Sherlock deflated a little, but complied with a “Yes, mummy.”

He climbed out of the car and made his way to the empty playground that was scattered with leaves. Most of the children stood shyly in uniform with their mothers or fathers, afraid to move or look around. First days of school were Sherlock’s favourite. He liked to examine his classmates and guess things about them that he would confirm correctly later on during the semester. It was something of a hobby he picked up from watching countless people walk in and out of his mother’s office in the many hours he spent there after school. It was fun for him, and he liked to imagine he was a spy, gathering information on his targets without uttering a word or being seen.

Sherlock sat himself down on a swing, picking up a stray leaf rolling past his black dress shoes and examining it. It was a maple leaf judging by its shape and its edges were a vivid red, while the centre was a paling green.

 _How does it change colour?_ he wondered, squinting his eyes at it and holding it up to the morning sun. He imagined the red creeping down into the centre, consuming the entire leaf in scarlet and then eventually turning it brown as the rest of the leaves ended up. He looked up into the sky and thought _It’s cold in the autumn,_ then vaguely wondered if it was something in the cold that changed the colours of the leaves before he was interrupted by something in the corner of his eye.

There were two boys who had just arrived, one taller slim boy who was throwing a fit to his mother, and another very small boy standing just behind her as she struggled to get the taller boy to put on his navy blue uniform blazer.

“Harry, put your blazer on! You’re going to catch a cold!” their mother exclaimed. Both boys had light blonde hair, though their mother was brunette. The one called Harry threw his arms around and refused to put his blazer on, causing his mother to sigh loudly and resorting to stuffing his coat into the boy’s pack.

Sherlock watched them carefully, leaf still in hand, and noticed the tiny blonde boy staring at him from where he stood. He had the same navy blue shorts on as Sherlock did, but with white socks pulled up to his calves so that he resembled a boy scout. Sherlock noticed he had the same stitch on his blazer as he did that indicated he was in Year 1 as well.

Sherlock broke the gaze between them and carefully placed the maple leaf in his pack between his books before the school bell chimed and he headed for the school doors.

*****

The tiny blonde boy watched as the boy from the swing walked past him when his mother finally turned to him and said, “John love, go on ahead to your class doors. I have to go on and get Harry settled into her room. You’ll be all right. Have a good day.” She leaned down to kiss her son on his temple and gently pushed him along, preoccupied with his sister who had gone wondering into the wrong class queue.

John ambled over to where the other boys and girls were and stood quietly behind a taller girl with red hair. In truth, every boy and girl was taller than John. He was the smallest boy in the class, always had been.

He fidgeted a little with his white dress shirt before he leaned around the taller girl and saw that the boy from the swing was standing just further down the line.

They were in the same class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm so excited to be writing about cute primary school Sherlock and tiny John. Just picturing them as little babies is adorableeeeee


	3. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are finally introduced and are intrigued by one another.

 

Sherlock took a seat at a desk mid-row by the window. He didn’t sit at the very back for he noticed that his teacher last year frequently picked on those in the last rows to make sure they were paying attention, and he didn’t want to sit at the very front for the same reason. _Nobody picks on the kid in the middle_ he thought, and of course he liked the window so he could observe the people outside.

He paid little attention to those who sat around him as he took out his one pencil from his pack and placed it on his desk neatly.

“Is that all you’ve got?” asked a voice. Sherlock turned to see a stocky boy had taken the desk next to him, breathing heavily as he chewed on a granola bar.

“What do you mean is that all I’ve got?”

“You’ve only got one pencil. Mum got me at least ten, and some pens, and paper. Can’t your mummy afford to give youmore than _one_ pencil?” he spat, saliva oozing in his mouth as he continued chewing. Sherlock looked at him with disgust, happy there was an aisle space between them.

“And why is his hair so weird?” chipped in another boy, this one skinnier with a pointy face. He was sitting in the seat on the other side of the stocky boy, in the next aisle. The stocky boy looked at Sherlock’s hair and laughed, “Oh yeah, it’s so messy like his mother doesn’t have a comb either.”

Sherlock glared at the two boys and was about to retort when someone walked by and inadvertently whacked the stocky boy in the back of the head with his bag. The stocky boy cried out, “Hey! Watch it or I’ll whack you.” The child with the bag turned around to apologize, and in doing so, smacked the other boy in the face as well. Sherlock noticed the force with which this child was swinging his pack around and knew it wasn’t accidental. Sherlock also noticed that it was the tiny blonde boy with the brother named Harry.

“Oh, sorry.” The tiny blonde boy said simply before quietly taking his seat at the very front.

Sherlock continued to watch him in curiosity as the teacher finally came in to settle everyone down.

“Alright, alright, I know everyone’s excited,” their teacher announced, “please, everyone take a seat. We’re all going to be friends here.” The boys beside Sherlock quieted down as they rubbed their heads.

“First days are always exciting,” their teacher said, rubbing her hands together. Sherlock noted that their teacher was young, younger than his mother at least and she liked the colour green as both her long skirt and cardigan were an olive shade. “It’s exciting to gather together in a new class because you never know who you are going to meet. So, let us all meet one another shall we? Let’s all introduce ourselves.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and felt the pit of his stomach fall slightly. He didn’t want to publicly talk about himself to people who didn’t want to be friends with him. He didn’t want to speak to a room full of people who didn’t care.

But one by one, the students went up and told the class their name, their birthday and something interesting about their families. The stocky boy told the class his name was Winston, that his birthday was in August and his mother was ‘the boss of all the people at the office’. Sherlock learned that the pointy faced boy’s name was David.

There was one girl who had a difficult time talking aloud in front of the class, and she just shyly stood at the front not saying a word. She had auburn hair in pigtails and Sherlock noticed the bracelet on her hand that said ‘peanut allergy’. The teacher tried to politely prompt the girl into saying her name, but to no avail. She then approached the girl, and knelt down to her level, speaking to her quietly. Eventually, a small voice emerged that said, “My name is Molly, my birthday is in July and my dad is a vet.” The girl then ran back to her desk and buried her head down in her arms.

“Ok, that was Molly Hooper…” the teacher said, “next up is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes!”

Sherlock sighed and slowly got out of his seat. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he walked up and he faintly heard the snickers of laughter from Winston and David. When he got to the front, he stared at the ground and said monotonously, “My name is Sherlock, my birthday is in January and my father is a chemist.” He said all this very quickly and was about to make his escape back to his desk when he heard,

“What’s a chemist?”

Sherlock stopped and looked up to see the small blonde boy sitting in the front, looking into his eyes with curiosity. Sherlock was taken aback by the question and didn’t know what to say. The teacher then chimed in and said, “Yes, Sherlock, can you tell us what a chemist is?”

Sherlock looked into the blonde boy’s blue eyes and said, “Um, it means my dad does a lot of experiments and stuff…”

The blonde boy didn’t say anything further, so Sherlock went to take his seat. “Thank you very much, Sherlock.” The teacher concluded.

Sherlock listened to the other children drone on about themselves but he wasn’t really interested. He was only interested in who the blonde boy was and so was waiting for the moment when he would introduce himself. Finally, after everyone had gone up the teacher called out the last name on the list.

“Watson, John.”

The little blonde boy quietly slipped out of his seat and stood at the front of his class, his head just below the level of the chalkboard. His voice was suitably small, but clear, indicating a subtle confidence that was unexpected for a boy his size.

“My name is John Watson, my birthday is on July seventh, and my father is a soldier.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more kid!lock and John interaction as I get back into this story after a long hiatus.

Sherlock observed John during various parts of the day and picked up some interesting information about him. For example, this curious blonde boy was better at arithmetic and geography than he was at spelling. He was right handed, he could tie his shoelaces very quickly and he had a strawberry jam sandwich for lunch.

Also, everyone got along with John. All of the boys and girls in the class wanted to talk to him and they were often asking him questions about what his father did as a soldier.

“Does he wear a uniform?”

“Does he have a gun?”

“Have you seen his gun?”

“Has he ever used his gun?”

At lunchtime, Sherlock sat back at one end of a long table in the cafeteria while the others crowded John at the other end and asked him these questions. It wasn’t that Sherlock wasn’t curious; he was, for his father often mentioned working with figures in the military as well. But Sherlock was more concerned with why John was curious with him. At any rate, he wasn’t very interested in hovering with the rest of his classmates, sniffing the horrid things that might be stuck in Sara’s hair or the grass in Thomas’s shirt.

As he was analyzing the huddle of children around John, he was interrupted by a sudden sensation of wetness on his trousers. He looked down to see that someone beside him had spilled apple juice on him, and that someone was Molly Hooper. She just stared at his trousers, open-mouthed and not helping to clean up the mess. “Moll-y!” Sherlock cried out. He let out a small roar of exasperation and ran off to the loos to get himself cleaned up.

His mother wasn’t going to be getting him any crickets at this rate.

While he was patting down his pantleg, Winston and John entered just then, chatting about something to do with robots on the telly. Sherlock sniffed as he straightened up and Winston forcefully started to laugh when he recognized him, in a way that tried to invite John to laugh with him. John was not so easily swayed.

“What happened to your trousers?” John asked, staring at the very obvious dark spot along Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock looked at Winston first, then answered between his teeth, “Molly Hooper.”

He then moved past the two boys towards the exit, and as he opened the heavy door he overheard, “Don’t laugh at Sherlock.”


End file.
